I'd Fall for You in Any Universe
by Procrastination Fairy
Summary: A bunch of NaruMitsu AU one-shots.
1. Soulmate AU

**So see this post? post/ 98179341400/ send-me-a-ship-and-a-number-and-ill-write-a-short-fic (Also, that's my friend's writing tumblr and she's great and you should check her out.) Well, I like most of the AUs and I really wanted to write something for Ace Attorney again, so I figured until I get actual inspiration, I'd just do this. I'm not going to do all of the AUs, because certain ones make me uncomfortable, but I'll do most of them! First one is Soulmate AU.**

Phoenix had always thought the way people found soulmates was a _little_ weird. He couldn't deny the validity of it-no, those who found their soulmates were always really happy. And he didn't try to deny it or date other people either. He knew he'd find his soulmate eventually. Most likely. Alright, so he had dated Dahlia, but that was different. She'd been so enchanting, and he'd put off comparing signs because he was worried their signs wouldn't match. (They didn't, and he'd probably known that from the beginning.) But, really, Phoenix didn't particularly care to go around and flash the little mark on his arm for everyone to see. And he didn't like the way some people leered, trying hopelessly to see everyone's sign.

He kind of just wanted to find his soulmate and get it over with. Of course, at twenty-eight, that didn't seem likely to happen any time soon.

"Aw, come on, Nick, you'll find that person soon enough!" said Maya when he mentioned his concerns to her. She had her head in his lap and was sprawled across the couch. She laid her DS on her stomach. "I mean, I haven't found mine yet!"

"Maya, you're twenty-one. You have time," he replied, flipping the page in his book absently.

Maya gave him a look. "And so do you!" she declared. "What does your sign look like anyway?" She reached up and tugged his arm so that she held it above her head, rolling up the sleeve in a way that was sure to wrinkle it. Phoenix wondered what her intention was. He'd known from their first meeting that their signs didn't match. They'd already had that awkward discussion.

He asked her.

Maya didn't really answer him. She said, "This... looks familiar. I've seen this somewhere. I'm sure of it."

"I'm glad you maybe know my soulmate," said Phoenix, shifting positions on the couch. Maya whined at being forced to move as well.

"You should be glad!" she said. "If I remember who it is, you can finally know!"

"_If_ you remember," he emphasized.

Maya huffed. "Do you really think so little of my memory?"

"Yes," he said. Maya proceeded to lecture him about the merits of her memory for about an hour. Long enough to forget that she maybe knew his soulmate, anyway.

* * *

He actually found his soulmate a month and a half later. Well, no. He'd met his soulmate in grade school. But they'd never compared signs. Until a month and a half after Phoenix and Maya's conversation.

Phoenix would later remember this discovery with slight embarrassment. After all, it only happened because-

"Oh, fuck!"

-he spilled his coffee on his arm. In Miles Edgeworth's office. Phoenix was just lucky he hadn't spilled it on any papers because then he would be dead. He just hoped his soulmate would regret killing him after he found out. ("I wouldn't, Wright. Those who stain my papers must deal with the consequences.")

To Edgeworth's credit, he didn't immediately bark out some sort of biting comment. He grabbed a handkerchief, handed it to Phoenix, and then dragged him over to the adjacent restroom to run cold water on his arm. Only after Phoenix's burn was being cared for did he say, "I would have thought you would have surpassed the age of spilling."

"Oh, shut up," said Phoenix without any sort of malice. "I'm not quite awake. That coffee was supposed to help."

"Burning your arm aids you to wake up in the morning?" Edgeworth asked, with a slight quirk of his lips.

Phoenix gave him a look. He pulled his arm out from under the faucet and rolled up his sleeve. He turned his wrist to Edgeworth and asked, "Does it look bad?" Phoenix was initially staring at the red skin himself, until he realized that Edgeworth had been very quiet. Then he looked over.

Edgeworth was pale.

Phoenix panicked. "Is it bad? Do I need to go to the hospital? I don't think it hurts that much, but what if it's one of those things where it doesn't hurt when it's supposed to?"

"Wright, your arm is fine. It's only a slight burn," said Edgeworth, his voice a little shaky.

"Then what's wrong?"

As those words came from Phoenix's mouth, Edgeworth rolled up his own sleeve and set his wrist next to Phoenix's.

The same.

"Oh," said Phoenix.

Edgeworth looked up at him.

"Oh," he said again. He looked back down at the signs. They definitely matched. That wasn't... expected. "I'm not really sure what to do with this."

Immediately, Edgeworth recoiled and replaced his sleeve. "I apologize for your lack of satisfaction. I in no way meant to disappoint you," he said with that weird formal tone he took sometimes.

"That's not what I meant," said Phoenix, knowing he'd have to act fast before Edgeworth shut down on him. "I just... didn't know."

Edgeworth didn't reply.

"Um, the sign looks better on your arm."

Edgeworth almost cracked a smile. "Is that an attempt to flirt?"

"Uh, no." Phoenix blinked. "Unless that's okay now. I mean, we are kind of sort of soulmates."

That was the first time in a long time Phoenix heard Edgeworth laugh. And it was pretty nice. He certainly didn't have any complaints.


	2. Childhood Best Friends AU

**This isn't much of an AU, is it? I kind of just wrote about them as kids instead. (Sorry for taking so long with this. I, uh, started writing before, but my computer crashed and I lost all my work and I'm kind of a baby so I just stopped writing because I was angry. I'll start another chapter right after this, promise.)**

Miles Edgeworth had always been a very single-minded child. From the first case of his father's that he had watched, Miles had declared that he would be a defense attorney as well. He would not be dissuaded from this. Miles never backed down when he sure he was right. He never threw tantrums, merely persuasively argued his point. If Miles decided that he would not eat broccoli for dinner, he would not eat broccoli for dinner.

Perhaps it should have been obvious that when Miles developed his first crush, he would be single-minded in that as well.

His first crush was a nice boy named Nick Wright, with messy black hair that stuck up at every angle and pretty eyes. Nick was a bit of a crybaby, but he had a nice smile. He also always wrote special Valentine's cards for everyone in his class, with special messages for each person, so that no one felt left out. Plus, Nick had 160 box of crayons, and once when Miles forgot his box at home on coloring day, Nick let him borrow from his box any color he wanted. Miles thought Nick was perfect.

That was why Miles decided to send Nick a secret admirer note. Miles didn't want to tell him directly. It was simply too common and would not make a real impression on Nick. (It had nothing at all to do with the fact that Miles was too shy to tell Nick directly. Nothing. At. All.)

It was a simple note. Very elegant, Miles thought. He'd written in it cursive, just to make it look extra nice. It read, "Dear Phoenix Wright, I admire you. For the past five months we've been in the same class, I have found that my admiration has only grown. I think your hair is nice, and your eyes are pretty. I like your Mr. Ninja shirt a lot. I would really like to be your boyfriend. (Boys can be boyfriends together, you know.) If you think that you might be interested, please write back and hide the note on the bottom of your desk, in the little flap by the front left leg. Sincerely, Your Secret Admirer."

Miles thought the idea was absolutely foolproof.

Of course, he didn't expect that Nick would have no idea how to read cursive. He also didn't expect for Nick to find the note halfway through the day instead of first thing in the morning, and, instead of attempting to read the note himself, hand the note to Miles and say, "Hey, Miles, can you read cursive?"

"Yeah," Miles replied nervously, trying not to let on.

"Can you read it for me please?" Nick asked with his pretty smile. Miles was completely flustered. He stared at the note for a moment before handing it back to Nick.

"The no-note . . . ," he said quietly. "Um, it, uh, is too curly."

Nick took the note and turned it over in his hands, looking it for a moment. He said, "It is really curly, isn't it? It looks nice, but it's not very practical." And with that, Nick threw the note in the trash.

It took all of Miles's strength not to turn red with Ms. Apprendrian took the note out of the trash at the end of the day and laughed as she read it.

* * *

Miles's second idea to confess to Nick wasn't even really a confession. Anna Bunker invited the whole class to her birthday party. Her party was in the basement of her house, and that was a big deal because it was a boy-girl party, and they'd been left alone by her parents.

About halfway through the party, when the first liter bottle of soda had been emptied, Anna took the bottle from the table and set it on the floor.

"Everyone get in a circle!" Anna ordered. She was real bossy, but Miles would thank her for this forever.

"Why?" asked Candy, who was really shy and who everyone knew had a crush on Nick. Miles didn't really like her. He felt bad about that (mainly because Daddy told him that the only good reason to dislike someone was if they were mean to someone and Candy was never mean to anyone), so he was extra nice to her when she asked for help with English.

Anna grinned and bounced on her heels. Her pigtails went up and down and up and down. She said, "My sissy told me about a game big kids play. It's called spin the bottle. You spin the bottle around the circle, and you have to kiss whoever it lands on!"

Everyone looked really embarrassed about that.

"B-but what if it lands on someone you don't want to kiss?" asked Nick.

"So there's someone you do want to kiss?" asked Larry, who laughed when Nick's face turned red and he spluttered out an answer. (Miles thought he had a good reason to dislike Larry. He seemed like he was mean to Nick a lot, and he still had the nerve to call himself Nick's best friend.)

Anna shook her head. "You have to kiss whoever it lands on. No matter what!" She gave a very pointed look to Alex, who knew that Anna was going to find some way to make the bottle go wherever she wanted it to.

The children played for a while-the bottle landed on Miles twice, first by Anna, who seemed to take too many turns, and second by Isaac-until it was Miles's turn. Miles was very excited, although he didn't tell anyone, and he kept thinking, Please land on Nick, please land on Nick, please land on Nick, please land on Nick.

It spun around, slowing down right as it neared Nick, and stopped on Larry. Everyone giggled and laughed ,and Miles looked angry, and he gave Larry a quick kiss to the cheek.

They played a little longer, and then Anna asked, "Who hasn't spun yet?"

Nick looked to the side guiltily. Larry yelled, "Nick needs to go! He hasn't kissed anybody!"

"Nick has to go then!" Anna yelled. Candy looked a little like she wanted the bottle to land on her. Miles grimaced.

Nick shook his head. He said, "I don't really want to kiss anyone, Anna . . . ."

"You have to!" Anna cried. She pushed Nick to the center. He gingerly pushed the bottle.

It landed on Miles.

Miles's surprise must have been evidenced by his face, and perhaps been easily mistaken for disgust, because Nick began to apologize profusely, and Larry and Anna started to tease Nick and cheer him on. Nick leaned forward so that his face was really close. Miles's heart felt like it was about to fall out of his body and roll onto the floor, all squishy.

"I'm really sorry, Miles," said Nick.

Miles nodded, his ears red. Nick leaned forward some more, but then he slipped and instead of his lips hitting Miles's cheek, they brushed the corner of his mouth. Miles was suddenly frozen. Nick began to apologize even more, his own face the same red as the Flamin' Fire crayon. Larry began to laugh and say that was a "real first kiss."

When Daddy picked Miles up after the party, Miles thought about telling him about his first kiss. Instead he asked Daddy about Daddy's first kiss.

"I was about twelve," he said. "But you keep your first kiss special, Miles. Only give it to someone you think deserves to have your first kiss."

"Okay," said Miles guiltily. He didn't tell Daddy, but he thought that Nick deserved his first kiss more than anyone.

* * *

The next attempt to win Nick's heart was also an accident, of sorts.

The day Miles's lunch money was stolen and Nick was blamed, Miles already knew the truth. To start off, there was no evidence proving that Nick even went in the classroom, and there was in fact a witness (Miss Nursie) that testified to the opposite, so an accusation to Nick was ridiculous. Plus, Nick was much too nice to do anything like that. After all, before blame was even cast in his direction, Nick offered to give Miles the Crunch bar that came in his Lunchable.

So when the class made a trial, and everyone yelled that Nick was guilty, Miles had to speak out. (Plus, he kind of thought that Larry did it. When something smelled, it's usually the Butz.)

At the end, when Nick was allowed to go free-and Miles told Ms. Apprendrian that he'd be telling his father about how mean she was to poor Nick-Nick waited around after class for Miles to say thank you.

"It's no big deal," said Miles. "They didn't have evidence. It wasn't fair. I didn't believe you did it anyway."

"I didn't!" Nick said. "I'm really sorry about your lunch money . . . ."

Miles shrugged.

"Thank you so much, Miles. You're really nice!"

Miles tried not to blush.

"Hey, you should come over to my house Friday. Larry and I are having a sleepover. Mama rented a movie, and Mommy said she's going to make brownies and order pizza!" Nick grinned his beautiful smile.

Miles nodded. "I would like to, but I will have to ask my father."

"I hope you can come! I can have Mommy or Mama call your daddy," he offered.

"Thank you," said Miles.

Nick laughed. "Thank you!" Then he hugged Miles and ran off.

(And so Nick and Miles were friends until December, when suddenly Miles disappeared. Nick would worry about him a lot, and, years later, Nick would try to save Miles. But that's another story.)


	3. TeacherSingle Parent AU

**It's really weird to write something where Miles isn't a prosecutor. I'm not sure how I feel about that.**

Trucy Wright was a good student. She transferred into Mr. Edgeworth's third grade class two months into the school year. At that time, she'd been somewhat quiet and withdrawn. It worried Mr. Edgeworth. He had been briefed on her . . . circumstances before she was put into his class; in fact, Trucy's father had sent him an email asking that he give him updates on Trucy's actions at school. Mr. Wright said that he worried that Trucy was putting on a brave face, and he wanted to be sure that she was doing well.

Mr. Edgeworth could not fault Mr. Wright for this. Mr. Wright was right to worry. Mr. Edgeworth saw how Trucy behaved in class and how she pinned on a smile when she ran up to her father after school. Trucy was almost certainly acting.

That was why Mr. Edgeworth called Mr. Wright in for a meeting. He said he believed that a face-to-face, more in-depth discussion about how Trucy was adjusting would be beneficial. Emails just weren't cutting it. Mr. Wright readily agreed. All of these things only served to elevate Mr. Wright in Mr. Edgeworth's opinion. He so much preferred parents who cared about their children. Those were the only parents who deserved children, in his mind. He wished he could ensure that all children had at least one such parent, but he knew that was impossible. Mr. Edgeworth would just have to do his best as a teacher to help the children along in life.

The meeting was scheduled for 3:30, half an hour after the end of the school day. Mr. Wright arrived at 3:42, twelve minutes late. He wore a white t-shirt and jeans, both paint-stained in a way so that Mr. Edgeworth was unsure if the paint was dry and unwilling to invite him to sit, excepting for that it would be rude otherwise. Mr. Wright also had a long streak of light blue down his nose and a couple spots of orange and yellow on his cheeks and in his hair. Simply put, he looked a mess. (Was it strange that Mr. Edgeworth thought he looked nice?)

"I'm really sorry," said Mr. Wright with a silly-looking smile. "For being late and for the paint. I, uh . . . . Well, I was getting ready to leave, and then I spilled the paint water on the floor, and I had to clean it up or else it stains, you know, so I did that, but then I was running late and I didn't have time to wash up, or I'd have been even later, and . . . . Uh, sorry."

Mr. Edgeworth nodded. He stood and held out his hand. "My name is Miles Edgeworth. I presume you are Trucy's father?"

Mr. Wright smiled. "Yeah. Phoenix Wright. I'm, uh, a painter, if you haven't guessed yet."

Mr. Edgeworth did not return the smile. Mr. Wright felt slightly intimidated. Mr. Edgeworth gestured for him to sit in a chair pulled up from the computer at the side of the room. Mr. Wright did so.

"I assume you know about Trucy's, uh-" Mr. Wright swallowed and looked to the side. He shuffled in the chair so that it spun slightly to the left.

Edgeworth nodded and clasped his hands. "The school felt that it was right to inform me."

Wright sighed. He said, "I know she isn't supposed to be completely okay right off the bat, but . . . ."

"Has she had problems at home as well as at school?" Edgeworth asked. He carefully examined Mr. Wright for any signs of . . . something. He had to be careful. Single parents weren't always the perfect parents for kids such as Trucy.

Wright nodded. "She- I think that Trucy thinks I go to bed at ten, but I'm usually up late painting, actually. And, um, sometimes I hear her crying. At first, I just thought she needed to get it out. I mean, she- It-"

Edgeworth was quiet. "You've been giving her space," he said. He moved his hands to his thighs and tapped his fingers thoughtfully.

"Yeah," Wright agreed as he ran his hand through his hair. "I'm not sure that's the right thing to do, but I don't really know what else to do."

". . . May I ask how you came to care for Trucy?" Edgeworth hesitantly straightened a few items on his desk. "I understand the circumstances by which she lost her biological father, but nothing was explained to me past that."

Wright seemed surprised. "Oh," he said. "Well, it's kind of complicated, but Mr. Enigmar's lawyer knew me pretty well, and she thought that my distance from LA would keep her safe for a while. And then no other family was found, so I kind of just agreed to keep her."

"So you never planned to have a child," Edgeworth surmised.

"No." Wright paused. "Don't take that to mean anything other than that. I love Trucy, and she's my daughter now. I'm going to take care of her. This just wasn't planned."

Edgeworth listened. Mr. Wright seemed sure of himself in this. Still . . . . "You never considered sending Trucy to a couple more suited for caring for a young child?" he asked.

Wright's face went cold. "I told you. Trucy is my daughter now. No one can change that. She's had enough instability in her life. Plus, I promised."

"You promised?" Edgeworth questioned.

Wright gave a tight smile. He clenched his fist around the fabric of his jeans until his fingers were white. "A couple nights ago, at dinner, she suddenly asked if I was going to disappear like her first daddy did. When I said I wouldn't, she made me promise."

Edgeworth paused and blinked sadly. "I see . . . ," he trailed off.

Wright turned back to face Edgeworth head on. "You called me here to speak about Trucy," he prompted.

"Ah, yes," Edgeworth said. "I was just going to inform you that she's continued to be withdrawn in class and does not seem to be connecting with her classmates. I thought perhaps I would need to recommend therapy."

Wright winced. "I see," he said.

"I understand that many parents do not wish for their children to attend therapy," said Edgeworth, launching into a prepared speech with hand gestures at the exact moments, "but therapy is-"

"I know," Wright interrupted. "If she needs it, she needs it." He sighed and ran a hand through his hair again. "I'm sorry, but I really need to go. Trucy . . . ."

"Is outside the door?"

Wright smiled sheepishly.

Edgeworth shook his head. He ripped a paper from his notebook and began to scribble something down. "I know that your and your daughter's situation is unique. Here is my number if you need anything."

Mr. Wright accepted it gratefully.

"Your daughter . . . . She's a good girl. You're doing all that you can," Edgeworth said, unsure of quite how to end it.

"Thanks," said Wright. "I just want her to be happy. If therapy is what it takes, well . . . . Thanks for keeping me updated." He seemed to hesitate for a moment, looking at Edgeworth, then the door. Then Wright hurried away.

* * *

The next day, Trucy Wright approached Mr. Edgeworth and handed him two pieces of stiff paper.

"It's watercolor paper," she informed him proudly. "Daddy painted one, and I painted the other."

Mr. Edgeworth set both paintings on his desk. One was a messily painted tree and a smiling sun. The other was a beautiful landscape of a forest.

"They're very nice," Mr. Edgeworth said. "You might put your father out of business with your talent."

Trucy giggled. It was the first time Mr. Edgeworth had heard her laugh like that. Trucy looked around, as if someone was going to listen, and then leaned in. "Mr. Edgeworth, I think my daddy likes you. He said you have nice hair and that he'd like to paint you sometime."

It took Mr. Edgeworth about five minutes to compose himself for the first lesson.


	4. Meeting in a Coffee Shop AU

**This has been sitting my drafts for like two weeks, oops. (On the other hand, I found a tumblr url that I loooooooove, so :D)**

**So I've had quite a few people mention that my chapters are pretty short, and, yeah, that's true. Honestly, that's because these AUs are sort of drabbles. Unless I'm really inspired (I totally did not mistype and have expired there are at first, no sir), these won't be too long. However, I will attempt to update fairly frequently. At this rate, I'm picturing updating, maybe twice a week? Once Saturday and once Sunday, or maybe once during the week and once on the weekend. I can't make any promises though. I've been drowning in math homework every night, and that's one of eight classes.**

**Anyway, just like the first two, this one isn't complete AU. I really like Wright and Edgeworth as lawyers, hehe . . . .**

That could not be him. That could absolutely, positively not be him. Phoenix was sure of it. It wasn't that easy. There was no freaking way it was that easy.

Still, that guy had Miles's seriousness about his eyes. He had the scowl Phoenix had seen in the law tabloids. Heck, he just had Miles's face in general, plus a slight resemblance to Gregory Edgeworth that only seemed to support the hypothesis.

Phoenix considered how to go about getting this guy's attention. He didn't want to march up and ask. Going on his luck, Miles would think he was some crazy stalker and not recognize him and walk away. Or maybe it wouldn't really be Miles. Maybe Phoenix was imagining it. That was why he had to test first. He had to ensure that that was really Miles Edgeworth. Phoenix pondered this as he rose to throw away his half-finished cup of coffee. (He reminded himself to warn Mia that the coffee here wasn't very good.)

How exactly did one go about testing a person's identity though? Phoenix wasn't sure. He didn't really have any ideas either. He wasn't really skilled at that. But, really, how many times would a person need to prove that someone's identity? It wasn't a super big deal that he didn't know how to do this. Except that it was a super big deal right now, because he really needed to know if that was Miles.

That was when Phoenix slipped, his coffee flew in the air, and everything went to shit.

He wasn't sure when the styrofoam cup cracked. It could have been in the air. Phoenix was pretty sure he saw some coffee splatter out and land on his face. Maybe it was when it hit the edge of the table. It didn't matter much though. The coffee was everywhere: Phoenix's jeans, the floor, and on the documents spread across the table, although unfortunately not the cup. Phoenix's eyes slowly moved up to the catch the horrified gaze of the man sitting at the table.

"I'm so sorry!" Phoenix cried without another thought. He rose and hurried to the stand with the napkins, grabbing a bunch and bringing them back to the table. Unwilling to touch what might be important documents in fear he'd ruin them, Phoenix handed half the napkins to the man he thought was Miles and used the other half to soak up the coffee on the floor.

The man hesitantly dabbed the documents, wincing as the ink started to run. "These are very important," snapped the man. "Do you have any idea what you've done?"

"Screwed up?" Phoenix joked. "Yeah, I do that a lot. Sorry."

The man scowled. Phoenix stood up, soggy napkins in his hands, and took a step over to the trash can. He caught a glimpse of one of the documents.

"State v. Harry N. Derouge?" he murmured.

The man grimaced. He said, "You should not look at others' belongings."

Phoenix snapped to attention. "Oh! Sorry. I . . . um, my mentor is working on that case. She's the defense attorney. Mia Fey."

The man raised a brow. "I was not aware Ms. Fey had an understudy."

"Um. Yeah. Well. I'm new," Phoenix said lamely. It was kind of hard to explain that situation. "I'm Phoenix Wright, by the way."

And there was the telltale sign. The man froze.

"Phoenix?" he muttered.

Phoenix grinned. "You're Miles Edgeworth, aren't you?"

Miles raised a brow. "Am I to presume you had already guessed that?"

Phoenix's smile grew a little. He said, "Yeah, well . . . . Yeah. But I wanted to make sure you remembered me before I started actually talking because otherwise it would be awkward, right? I mean, considering that you're this big-shot prosecutor, you probably have people you don't know talking you all the time, and I'm sure that gets a little creepy, so I didn't want to come off like that, but, um, I guess you do remember me, and-"

"Phoenix."

He looked back to his friend. Miles had that stern expression of his, the one that took no nonsense, only now it seemed so much more solemn, less like the petulant face of a determined child and more like the desolate face of a broken down adult. That expression kind of made his stomach twist. Phoenix felt the corners of his lips begin to curl down, but then he remembered what Mia always said and forced a bigger grin.

"It's nice to see you again!" he said calmly, trying to appear the adult he wasn't entirely sure he was. "How have you been?"

Miles stared blankly. His voice became slightly colder. "Are you asking why I left?"

Phoenix's smile fell off. He couldn't bring himself to pin it back on. He sighed. "Well, yeah. I mean, it was really sudden. I, uh, heard your dad died, but that's all-"

"Yes," Miles cut him off, his tone completely unyielding. He would say no more. "You are studying to be a lawyer?"

Phoenix crossed his arms. "Yes." Phoenix examined his friend discreetly. It was hard to imagine that this man was who Miles Edgeworth had become. And who wore suits to coffee shops like this one? There was a reason Mia sent him to check out places. Miles didn't really fit in with the hipster type. Unless he was some sort of hipster nouveau and those clothes were a new trend. The least Phoenix could say was that Miles had an interesting sense of fashion.

"Why?" Miles snapped. Phoenix snapped to attention and reeled back a little. For a second, his friend seemed to soften. He gestured for Phoenix to take the seat across the table. "I never expected you to pursue that."

Phoenix bit his lip as he gingerly lowered himself. This seemed completely unreal. He said, "Um. Well, there's a lot of things." He didn't think immediately jumping into his helping reason was the best idea. "I didn't really consider it seriously until recently, actually. But Mia is the one who really inspired me, I guess."

Miles nodded for him to continue, as he lifted his cup of whatever he was drinking and took a small sip.

Phoenix stiffened awkwardly. Knowing that that case was the reason he was becoming a lawyer was one thing. Talking about that case was entirely different.

"It's kind of a long story," Phoenix said, turning his gaze over to the window at the side, his voice low, "but I'll make it short. My girlfriend tried to frame me for murder, and Mia defended me."

The cup slipped from Miles's hands and almost fell to the table, only barely being caught. Phoenix glanced back at him. Miles looked incredibly conflicted. Great.

Phoenix felt the discomfiture and tried to diffuse it. He laughed. "Yeah, and apparently she was trying to murder me."

Miles stared blankly. Phoenix bit his lip. Why wasn't he speaking?

"Mia apparently already knew her. She said you did too." Phoenix inhaled lightly, trying to find the nerve. "Her name was Dahlia."

Finally, he caught Miles's eyes. Miles gripped the edge of the table nervously. "Dahlia Hawthorne?" he asked. His voice was tight, as if he could barely get the words out of his throat.

Phoenix made a weak smile. "Yeah." He glanced at his watch. "Oh, shoot. I was supposed to bring some coffee back to the office. I have to go. But we should meet up again. After all, we haven't hung out in fifteen years," he teased.

Miles made no comment.

"What's your number?" Phoenix asked, pulling out his phone. "I'll text you. Let's hope we can find a time when we're both free. I mean, you're probably really busy with work, and I'm this close to the bar exam, so I'm studying like 24/7, but I'm sure we can find the time." He glanced back at Miles, hoping that he hadn't changed so much that he wouldn't feel obligated to give out his number.

To his surprise, Miles gave his number with a smile,

* * *

Also to Phoenix's surprise (and Miles's chagrin), a week later, he found a tabloid with a picture of him and Miles, in which Phoenix was alleged to be Miles's lover. Phoenix didn't feel too guilty for laughing. It wasn't like Miles would ever know, after all.


	5. Fake Relationship AU

**Somehow or another I managed to have only math homework tonight, and easy math homework at that. So I decided to go ahead and write the new chapter. This one ended up a bit long. I was pretty inspired this time! I think it's better than the last one, at least.**

It started with Wendy Oldbag. It always started with Wendy Oldbag. Edgeworth had thought his troubles with that woman were gone after the Pink Princess incident. He'd had eight blissful years away from that woman.

And than she was back. And she was calling him that absurd name. And she was a witness in the one damn trial Edgeworth himself was involved in.

It didn't help that when he told Wright, he laughed.

"I don't know, Edgeworth. I think she's kind of entertaining," Wright said, and Edgeworth could imagine the smile on his face. In the background, he heard Trucy loudly proclaiming her actions as she ran through one of her magic tricks and Mr. Justice and Ms. Cykes arguing, which Edgeworth had been made to understand was a normal occurrence at the office. Edgeworth wasn't sure how Wright managed to stand being surrounded by so much chaos. Yet Wright was happier than he'd been in years, so Edgeworth never paid much mind to it. It was a relief to see him happy for reasons other than his daughter.

Edgeworth's voice remained rigid when he made his response. "Do you have an recollection of State v. Powers? Or State v. Engarde? I don't honestly believe that you did not find her aggravating during those cases."

Wright snorted. "Well, yeah," he replied. "But I think it was always worth it to see her get under your skin."

Had Edgeworth been in the physical company of Wright at that moment, he would have given him a frosty glare. Instead, he remained silent, seething.

"You get too worked up, Edgeworth!" Wright said. "You're not even the prosecutor on the case. You're just . . . . What are you doing anyway? Why would the Chief Prosecutor need to be involved?"

"International smuggling," said Edgeworth. "The defendant is being tried for murder here, but now he's been accused by the Interpol. They want the case wrapped up so they can get their hands on him."

Wright made a humming noise. There was a crash in the background, and the rookie attorneys' argument came to a halt. There was a faint, "Oops," that Edgeworth would guess came from Trucy, and Wright said, "F . . . fudge. Hold on a minute. Trucy! Oh- Argh, uh, Edgeworth, I have to go. See you later!"

The line clicked off, only a buzz left behind. There was a faint smile on Edgeworth's lips as he turned back to his desk. Perhaps it had been good that Wright had hung up. They tended to let their conversations run on a little long. Edgeworth enjoyed talking to Wright, of course, but the only time that fit into their schedules was just after lunch (usually), and it was better that the both of them finished their work before office hours ended.

Talking to Wright had put Edgeworth in a slightly better mood, although he was still aggravated by the presence of a particular witness. As far as she'd known, he was still traveling around Europe, and thus she'd not sent him any messages or gifts. But now he'd already received two flower arrangements, three boxes of chocolates, and seven love letters. If Edgeworth were a more sympathetic man, he might pity the lady for wasting her money and the loneliness her letters implied. However, Edgeworth was not particularly sympathetic, and the items she sent only drove more anger into his soul.

The office intercom beeped. Edgeworth pressed the button to accept the call.

"Mr. Edgeworth?" called Ms. Fright, her voice as calm and controlled as ever. Slight affection tugged at Edgeworth's lips. Thank the world for good secretaries. "There's another delivery for you, sir."

Edgeworth sighed. "Yes, thank you, Ms. Fright. Do something with that, if you could, please."

There was a slight pause before Ms. Fright's next reply. "I should have mentioned, sir, but . . . um, there's a visitor that came with the delivery."

Sometimes Edgeworth wondered if he'd died and gone to hell.

"I am too busy for visitors. Please tell her so."

"Ah . . . ," said Ms. Fright, seeming unwilling to protest to her boss but still unable to comply. Edgeworth could understand that. Wendy Oldbag was difficult to handle.

He took pity on his poor, overworked secretary. "Send her up."

"Yes, Mr. Edgeworth!" Ms. Fright chirped, suddenly relieved. It was less than two minutes when the door to his office swung open.

"Edgey-poo!" cried the obnoxious old woman, plopping into the chair on the other side of his desk.

"Good afternoon," said Edgeworth, striving to keep his voice level.

Wendy Oldbag sniffled. "Why did you ask your secretary to get rid of my gift? It's rude to hurt a lady's heart, you know!"

Edgeworth felt his nails dig into his palm. He exhaled slowly. "I have my reasons. Do you have a reason for coming to my office?"

"I wanted to see my sweet Edgey-poo!" she said. She made a wistful smile before going off into a long-winded rant about how he should have informed her he'd come home sooner.

He sighed. "Ms. Oldbag, I must inform you that, as Chief Prosecutor, my time spent at the office is valuable and cannot be wasted on personal chats." She did not need to know about his calls to Wright. "If there is anything of importance, inform me now. If not, you may show yourself out."

"How rude!" snapped the woman. "I would have thought that at your age, you would know better! But I guess you've still got a little whippersnapper in you." Her voice softened. "Oh, Edgey-poo, you're so young-spirited."

Edgeworth considered banging his head on his desk until she left, but, knowing his luck, she'd stay and care for his "injuries." "Ms. Oldbag . . . ," he warned.

"Well, if I'm not supposed to visit you during office hours, give me your address!"

"I am not at liberty to," he said.

"Hmph! At least have the decency to tell me why you don't keep any of my gifts around your office."

Edgeworth took a deep breath. He needed a way to get her out of there fast. He could not take much more of this. "Truthfully," he began to weave his lie, "my boyfriend is of the jealous sort and does not like to see gifts from others in my office."

Whether Ms. Oldbag's surprise was from his claim of having a boyfriend or the excuse itself, he could not tell. "Your boyfriend sounds horrible," she said sympathetically,

"On the contrary," said Edgeworth. "He's wonderful. I love him."

Ms. Oldbag didn't give in. "But he doesn't let you keep gifts!"

"It's not that he doesn't allow it. I do it out of consideration for him. I would not wish to see gifts from potential suitors at his desk, just as he does not care to see them at mine," said Edgeworth calmly. This lie seemed to be working out almost well.

The crone hesitated slightly. Her eyes were cast to the ground, as if to hide tears. She seemed slightly heartbroken. "I see. What's the whippersnapper's name?"

Edgeworth tried to imagine a name, something believable, but someone she would never meet because they did not exist. He said, "Phoenix Wright."

He didn't have any idea why.

* * *

Confessing to Wright had been an awkward endeavor. He and Wright had been friends for years. They knew each other well. Wright knew of Edgeworth's romantic inclinations towards men, Edgeworth knew of Wright's horrible romantic past, and they knew each other's struggles with asexuality. If any were to pretend to date and do it well, it could be them. It did not make explaining the situation any easier.

"You didn't tell me she was sending you gifts," was Wright's only response after Edgeworth recounted the incident.

"Is that all you have to say?" asked Edgeworth. This man baffled him.

Wright laughed. "Yes. I'm your jealous boyfriend who doesn't like seeing others' gifts in your office."

Edgeworth huffed.

"Relax, I'm just kidding. I don't mind pretending I'm dating you in front of the Oldbag. If I ever see her, that is," said Wright. "Honestly, shouldn't you be more worried about the situation? I'm not looking to date, but you . . . ."

They hadn't spoken of their romantic situations to each other in years. Edgeworth wasn't surprised to hear that Wright wasn't dating, as he had not even attempted to since he adopted Trucy, but it was strange to hear the words from the mouth of a man who'd once been such a hopeless romantic. Perhaps years of trying to find someone who could accept his daughter, his emotional baggage, and his asexuality had worn on him.

"I have no desire," said Edgeworth.

"No problem then!" said Wright. "She'll let up eventually, I'm sure, and then we can drop the act. Just don't tell Trucy we're doing this, or she may start calling you Mommy Miles instead of Uncle Miles."

Edgeworth winced.

"I've got to go. I'm at the courthouse, and the trial starts in twenty minutes, and I'd like to talk to my client beforehand. Are we still doing dinner tonight?"

"Yes," Edgeworth said. "Seven at my apartment."

"Cool! Trucy and I will be there!"

"Not on time, likely."

"Aw, lighten up. Trucy has a bad habit of making our bus passes disappear."

Edgeworth couldn't stifle his laugh. "Your daughter is something special."

Wright's voice softened. "Yes, she is. See you then."

Edgeworth placed the office phone back on the receiver. He looked up only to find that Wendy Oldbag had returned. His heart sped a little in fear that she'd heard the explanation.

"So you and your lover are having a romantic dinner tonight?" she asked. He was relieved to find that she seemed to have only caught the final statements.

"Not so much. His daughter is joining us. We do this once a week, as our schedules rarely coincide."

Oldbag stared at him for a moment. She said, "Then you wouldn't mind having one more."

Horror filled Edgeworth's eyes.

"I need to see if that whippersnapper is treating my Edgey-poo correctly," she said solemnly.

And in a sudden whirlwind, Edgeworth found himself destined for another agonizing encounter with Wendy Oldbag.

* * *

Because of Oldbag's self-invitation to dinner, Edgeworth and Wright were forced to reveal their plan to Trucy. Trucy Wright didn't laugh as much as they'd predicted. Instead, a wide grin spread over her face. When questioned about it, she shook her head and giggled to herself. Edgeworth chose to ignore it.

Oldbag arrived fifteen minute late, complaining of whippersnappers taking all the seats on the bus. If Edgeworth had to guess, he would presume she did not board until there was a free seat for her. As soon as she entered Edgeworth's apartment, she made her way to the living room where Wright and Trucy were sitting.

"Nice to see you again, Ms. Oldbag," Wright said calmly. He gestured to the girl next to him. "This is my daughter, Trucy. Trucy, this Wendy Oldbag. She was a witness in some cases Edgeworth and I were involved in years ago."

Oldbag seemed disgruntled. "You have a daughter? So old too! Clearly, you are not committed enough to Edgey-poo to never take another lover. And it just shows that you little whippersnappers can't keep it in your pants!"

Edgeworth wasn't sure which part Wright was blushing from. Trucy managed to keep her laughs inside.

"Actually, Trucy is adopted," Wright cut in. "Her father was a client of mine who disappeared. As she had no other family left, I adopted her."

Trucy smiled and laid her head affectionately on her father's arm. "Daddy is the best!" she chimed.

Oldbag wasn't entirely convinced. "When will dinner be ready?" she huffed.

"It is," said Edgeworth. "We were waiting for you."

Oldbag seemed slightly touched. "At least Edgey-poo has manners," she cooed. He refrained from mentioning that it was Trucy's idea.

They moved to the dining room, where Edgeworth served the food carefully.

"You have such refined taste," said Wright in that tone that was neither entirely mocking nor entirely serious. He cast his gaze over to Edgeworth. Edgeworth felt a little self-conscious right then, but he didn't mind having Wright's eyes on him with that kind of gentleness.

Edgeworth looked away and ignored his previous thoughts. "I have experience more cultures than you," he said calmly.

"I like eating at Uncle Miles's!" said Trucy. "It's always an adventure!"

Not exactly a compliment, but Edgeworth smiled affectionately at her anyway.

"How long have you been dating?" Oldbag demanded. Edgeworth and Wright looked at her.

"Not too long . . . ," Wright said carefully. "But we've known each other for years. I was wanting to wait until Trucy was an adult before I did this, but I guess I couldn't resist Edgeworth any longer." And there was Wright's teasing half-smile, that look that told Edgeworth they had an inside joke even if Edgeworth hadn't figured out what it was yet. That look made his breath slow. How had he not noticed that Wright did this to him before? Was he oblivious? Or was the idea of dating Wright slipping into his brain?

"And I'm glad Uncles Miles and Daddy are dating. They make each other happy!" said Trucy.

Oldbag looked at the two appraisingly. "If you're trying not to jump into it, you're failing," she pronounced. She looked over to Wright. "At his office, he said that he loved you. That's a huge honor. You should feel blessed to have Edgey-poo."

Edgeworth wanted to die right then. He considered grabbing the pen on the cabinet and scribbling a note on his napkin. He didn't want Wright to hear what he'd said at the office. He hadn't even been speaking about Wright, but to have him believe that he needed to let Edgeworth down gently would be misery.

"I am blessed," said Wright. "I have a lovely daughter and a perfect boyfriend. What more could I ask for?" At that, Wright reached over and took Edgeworth's hand in his own. He continued to defend himself to Oldbag all while rubbing his thumb comfortingly over Edgeworth's palm. Their fingers intertwined. Edgeworth could hardly concentrate on anything but that. He held back a sigh as he thought about how Wright's acting skills were very convincing. But what else would he expect from a man who went to college to be an actor before he changed majors? If Edgeworth didn't know better, he might have thought Wright actually loved him.

* * *

When the night finally, thankfully ended and Oldbag had slithered off to where she came from, Edgeworth thanked Wright and Trucy for their cooperation.

"No problem, Uncle Miles!" cried Trucy. She looked to the side, giggling nervously. "She seemed a bit . . . ."

Wright sighed. "Trucy, do you have our bus passes?"

Trucy paused. "Oh. Uh. Well, you know that trick I performed for Ms. Oldbag . . . ?"

Wright shook his head. "Go look around for them."

Trucy hesitantly complied and scampered off to scourge through the apartment. Edgeworth smiled fondly. "Your daughter is great."

"She is!" Wright said proudly.

"Again, I thank you for this," said Edgeworth.

"No problem," said Wright. He crossed his arms and it grew silent. Suddenly, Trucy ran between the two of them out the door.

"Let's go, Daddy!" she yelled. Wright nodded to her.

"Thank you for having us over," Wright said. Before Edgeworth could brush it off, he leaned forward and gave Edgeworth a quick kiss. "Expect a call from your jealous boyfriend before lunch tomorrow." Then the Wrights ran out of the apartment building.

Edgeworth was left wondering if Wright actually meant the kiss or if it was his twisted sense of humor again.


End file.
